Sitting in the Waiting Room
by Talking Hawk
Summary: Merry becomes a daddy! While waiting for his child to be born, he ponders about his relationship with Sam. Sequel to "Coming Back," No slash (really).


Sitting in the Waiting Room  
  
By Talking Hawk  
  
I walked merrily down the street that afternoon, whistling one of Bilbo's old tunes. I knew my name, Meriadoc, meant "the magnificent," but I think my nickname better suited my state of mind at the moment. I was merry, and Merry! I laughed at myself, my hands crossed behind my back. All throughout work that day, I had been in a sort of daze. The doctor said that it would at least be another week before Estella would give birth, but what does he know? He's an old cook of a hobbit.  
  
I stopped whistling, and instead contented myself with humming. All of a sudden, my cousin Pippin came running down the road towards me, a look of urgent panic on his face. He cried out, "Merry! Merry!" and when he came up to me, he seized my arm. I blinked down at him in surprise as he gasped for breath; it looked like he had been running forever.  
  
"It's Estella!" he gasped. "Huh?" I asked obliviously, blinking at my friend once more. Finally, it registered, and my eyes widened. "No…" I whispered. He nodded, and exhaled tiredly. "She's going into labor!" Stupid doctor; they don't know anything.  
  
"Well, what are you standing here for?" I shouted. "Find the midwife!" "Bu-…what about the doctor?" Pippin stuttered. I shook my head and said, "The doctor doesn't know anything. HE said that it would be another week before…you know!" "Fine, fine," he mumbled, bending over, his hands on his knees as he tried to regain his breath. I ran off past him, then after thirty feet or so, I stopped and looked back at him. He hadn't moved an inch.  
  
"Start MOVING!" I ordered, and the Took sighed, stood up, and went for the midwife.  
  
* * *  
  
I sat in my chair, elbows on my knees, and my hands intertwined. My bent fingers touched my lips as I stared off into space nervously. On the couch sat Pippin, his wife Diamond, their son Faramir, and his new wife Goldilocks. I was a bit curious as to why Faramir was there, but then it occurred to me that maybe he was giving PIPPIN emotional support. I glanced over at my friend; to my surprise, he was sitting the exact same way as I was. I suppose he realized that childbirth was a bit risky at this age…  
  
I didn't allow myself to dwell upon that. So why was Goldilocks there? Probably to support her husband Faramir, he was supporting his father Pippin. But who was supporting ME? Certainly not Diamond; she couldn't even remember my last name.  
  
The minutes, or possibly hours, passed by very slowly. Every once in awhile, the midwife's assistant would run out of the room to grab a few more towels, or water, or whatever else midwife's need. Maybe a book to pass the time by. The particular midwife Pippin had brought was not fond of the idea of the father being in the room as his wife gave birth; it was "women's territory," or so she said. Pippin insisted that she was doing it for the right reasons. He had heard many a story of fathers fainting at the sight of their child coming into the world.  
  
I wouldn't mind, except for the fact that whenever I DID see Estella, she was always in a state of agony and frustration. Every once in awhile, the midwife's assistant would usher me into the bedroom to hold my wife's clenching hand and offer a few words of encouragement as she screamed at me, the midwife, or at the ceiling. After the extreme pain had passed, she would gasp in exhaustion, and the midwife's assistant would usher me out again. Needless to say, I would not have fond memories of this.  
  
During the intermission of the screaming and hand-bruising sessions, my mind would wander in several different directions. Just a moment earlier, I had come out of the bedroom, my wife's fingernail imprints still in my palm. Out of the corner of my eyes, I took a long glance at my "supporters," starting from Pippin on the left side of the couch to Goldilocks. My eyes rested on the young woman, and for reasons I cannot explain, I began thinking of her father.  
  
Samwise Gamgee. What was there to say about him? We had never really been friends, but not distant enough to be enemies. The two of us just went about our business, accepting the fact that we were somehow connected to each other through Frodo, our friend. Our relationship remained neutral during the quest to destroy the ring, but we both realized that we would have to protect each other, Pippin, and Frodo from the forces of evil. We readily accepted this fact; we were in charge of the others. We were their protectors.  
  
The ring was destroyed, and life returned to the way it was. Three of the four of us married happily, and Pippin and Sam began their own families. Then Frodo left. Despite our distance, I knew that Samwise was deeply hurt by this. His dearest friend had left. I suppose I felt sorry for the hobbit, knowing that I would be in the same agony if Pippin had to leave for one reason or another. Best friends were hard to come by. Besides, I couldn't imagine having this child without Pippin's help. He would be the one I talked to after getting in a fight with my wife about what to name him or her. He would be the one I'd go to to make myself feel better after grounding my son or daughter for the first time. And in the case that I had a daughter, Pippin would be my accomplice in hunting down the first boy who broke her heart. After Frodo left, I realized that Sam didn't have that anymore.  
  
Soon after Frodo had left, Rosie became pregnant again. The day she went into labor, I joined Pippin and his wife in going over to the Gamgee house. Diamond brought something for dinner as Sam was in a nervous wreck when we arrived. Looking back upon it, I realize that he had sat the same way in his living room as I did now. Perhaps it was the signature nervous- father-to-be expression.  
  
Time had passed quicker at the Gamgee hobbit hole than it did now. There, I had merely contented myself with twiddling my thumbs on the couch. I didn't have to worry about fatherly things, like what to name them, feed them, cleaning them…I was not looking forward to the last part myself.  
  
After a few hours, the housewife had brought out a bundle in her arms. Everyone in the room looked up in surprise; we hadn't even noticed the baby's cry from behind the closed door. Sam stood up hesitantly, and held out his arms. Carefully, the woman put the blanket into his arms.  
  
The hobbit was in astonishment, enchanted by the baby in his arms. I peered at his face with confusion. I could understand why someone would be surprised by having a child the first time, but why the second? After a long time of rocking the bundle gently in his arms, Sam finally looked up, finding that the three of us had been staring intently at him since the midwife had come out.  
  
Slowly, I rose from the couch. Pippin and his wife stared at me as I awkwardly walked up to the Gamgee. I know I didn't have the right, but I had to ask. "May I?" I asked weakly, looking into Sam's solemn face, down at the blanket, then at him again. To my surprise, the hobbit smiled and nodded. With an incredible amount of care, he put his new child into my arms, and patiently taught me how to support the baby's head correctly.  
  
"He's a boy," Sam whispered, and wiped a tear from his eye. I gazed at him, then looked down at the creature in my arms. Two large hazel eyes stared up at me, and pudgy cheeks turned upwards as the baby gave me a toothless smile. His head was already covered in wet brownish blonde curls. The boy was so simple but so amazing all at the same time. It was difficult to imagine that we were once so small and fragile.  
  
I looked back up at the man. "Have you thought of any names?" I asked, and he shook his head. "Rosie was sure that we were going to have another girl," Sam laughed, "so we've been spending all our time thinking of girl names." He then paused, and the smile faded a bit. "Um…" he said uncomfortably, "you wouldn't happen to have any suggestions, would you?"  
  
My eyes widened. He was asking ME? I blinked my eyes dumbly, but continued to stare at the hobbit. We weren't even really friends, and he was asking me to name his son for him? Why would he do such a thing?  
  
Realization then dawned on me. This is the same question he would have asked Frodo, his dearest and closest friend, if he were still here. My eyes began to blur slightly with tears, because my heart ached for missing my cousin, and because I was touched by this gesture of friendship. I knew that no friend imaginable could fill the void in Sam that appeared as Frodo left, but by asking me this, the hobbit was asking me to be his friend. I would gladly accept this, but what kind of name could I come up with that would suffice?  
  
I looked down at the boy, searching for an answer. I wanted to fulfill my part of this "agreement," but my mind was a blank. The baby then began to laugh, and for a fraction of a second, I saw Frodo's laughing face before he left the Shire with the ring in hand. Frodo, I pondered. Frodo.  
  
I met Sam's eyes, and I said confidently, "Frodo." The hobbit looked at me with an expression of confusion, but I continued, "His name should be Frodo." A smile slowly appeared on the man's face, and he nodded. "Yes," he agreed. "Frodo it is."  
  
I smiled at the memory. Though the two of us never became as close as he and Frodo Baggins had been, we crossed the line between accomplices and friends. I couldn't help but miss both him and Frodo, though I knew that they were both happier in the Grey Havens than they ever could be here.  
  
A wailing interrupted my thoughts, and I lifted my head from my hands anxiously. After a moment, the door to the bedroom opened, and the midwife stepped out, a wrapped up blanket in my arms. I gulped nervously, but rose to my feet. She carefully set the bundle in my arms and said, "It's a girl."  
  
A girl? I looked down at the child's sleeping face, and slowly, a smile crept onto my lips. Okay, I could handle this, I thought to myself. Sam had six of them, so why should *I* worry when I only have one?  
  
My daughter yawned, obviously too bored by me to stay awake. I chuckled softly, and began rocking the child gently in my arms. It then occurred to me that I would need to come up with a name… But what?  
  
"Hmmm," I hummed out loud to myself. Let's see…Sam liked gardening, and flowers are in gardens… Perhaps a flower name should suffice. But what? Rose was already taken, and Daisy, AND Primrose… Petunia sounded too stupid to consider. Okay, maybe flower names were not the way to go. What else grew in gardens? Vegetables, fruits, weeds… "How about…" I said to myself, "Athelas?" I looked up, and the midwife blinked at me in surprise.  
  
I turned to Pippin, whose arm was now around his wife's shoulders. He smiled and nodded. He understood its significance to both Frodo and Sam. "Then we can call her Athel for short," I chuckled, imagining an older version of the child scowling at me for giving her such a silly name. How many kids, after all, were named after weeds, or even elvish things?  
  
* * *  
  
"C'mon, Madoc!" Frodo cheered as he sat on a grassy hill next to the field. His son was kicking a ball along the ground, running around other hobbit children as he steadily made his way towards the goal at the other end. Sam sat next to the hobbit, his eyes staring out at the game, but not, somehow. After Frodo laughed excitedly as the boy scored, he turned to his friend. His smile faded as he gazed at the Gamgee with concern.  
  
"Sam, what's wrong?" His former gardener blinked, and turned to him. "It's been, say, nine months since I've been here, right?" he asked, and Frodo slowly nodded. "Yes…why do you ask?"  
  
"Well, wouldn't that mean that Merry's a father now?" Frodo laughed, his eyes flashing happily. "I never thought about it," he admitted. "I suppose he is." Sam smiled, and turned forward once more, peering out at the sea of grass.  
  
"I think he will make a good father," Samwise said, and his friend nodded in agreement. 


End file.
